


Basilisk

by pontoni



Category: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Androids, Cyborgs, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1980-02-04
Updated: 1980-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pontoni/pseuds/pontoni
Summary: The party is boring, until she meets him.





	Basilisk

She was bored. Pandissa LeLunes's house party was turning out to be one of those dull political affairs where one met important persons whose only interest was themselves.  
  
Stifling a yawn, she extricated herself from a grain magnate's monologue on mega-economics and slipped out onto the deserted patio for some air. Cool sea-breezes slid around her as she leaned back against a balustrade and watched the dancers inside the mansion. They moved around the sunken onyx floor like flakes of confetti stirred by a wind; the intricate swirl-patterns were hypnotic.  
  
Suddenly a form blocked the doorway: Tall, cloaked, for an instant she thought —  
  
The form moved towards her, out of the shadows, and the moonlight revealed it to be only a man. Her first thought was that he looked like someone who was used to being in command. Her second thought was that he was quite attractive. His appeal came not from any one particular feature, but rather from a combination of contrasts. His nose and cheekbones had a jagged, flaring look, as though a sculptor had slashed them out in a fury; this rawness was balanced by a wide, high forehead and full, finely curved lips. Although he appeared to be around her age his inky hair shaded into white at the temples. After a moment, he bowed to her; when he straightened he pulled off his cloak and tossed it to a waiting valet-'droid.  
  
She could not help but smile at this dramatic unveiling, and changed her estimation of him from "quite attractive" to "very attractive." He was wearing a skintight sleeveless black jumpsuit, V'd to the groin and banded in gold, that showed off  what was, to her, a perfect body.  
  
He took her arm and led her back into the mansion and out onto the dance-floor. The musicians were sounding a classic vibrato; he began whirling her though a nine-step so expertly that she needed all of her concentration just to keep pace.  
  
Which was difficult because  every time he touched her, tossing her out and up and around and gathering  her in and passing her through, electric weakness rippled down the backs of her legs. She laughed as she danced, completely  caught up in the spontaneity of the moment. When the music slowed, softened, blended into a slow sinuous sway she held him close and thought that perhaps the party might turn out to to be interesting after all. Her mood flowed with the music; as she danced with her cheek against his smooth chest and smelled his unfamiliar skin-smell she felt languid, completely outside of herself and her responsibilities.  
  
She was so relaxed that the touch on her arm startled her. It was the grain magnate, standing next to them and indicating that he wanted to cut in. "I neglected to intro — " his translator began.  
  
"She does not wish to dance with you." her partner said.  
  
"I'm sure that she can speak for herself," his translator rasped. He stepped closer and reached for her hand.  
  
Without breaking the rhythm of his movements her partner grasped the other man's wrist and repeated, "She does not wish to dance with you." He tightened his grip.  
  
A muscle on the magnate's skull twitched; he pulled his hand free and hurried away.  
  
"Why did you do that?" She felt a faint percolation of annoyance; she found his dominant manner  intriguing, but he was almost taking it too far.  
  
"I traveled a long distance to be here. You will either be my companion or no one's."  
  
"I _see_." The music stopped; she stepped away and the break in physical contact dissipated her passivity. "I'm going to sit down."  
  
An emotion flashed across his face — anger? uncertainty? anxiety? — but she could not catch it. He followed her to her corner table on the balcony above the dance-floor.  
  
"If I'm going to spend all night with you may I at least know your name?" _Goddess_ , she thought, I _must be crazy to put up with this nonsense. No, be honest — you're enjoying this, no one has ever come on like this before. Everyone is either blustery or trembling, but he's so, so elegant, so self-confident, it's almost infuriating_ …  
  
"Coctris," he said simply.  
  
"No last name?" Now that was a ridiculous question. Better to ask, _'No objection to being my lover tonight?_ '  She had a sudden mental picture of the two of them in bed, and she knew it would be mindless, bruising; she could almost feel him ramming into her, feel her pelvis's thrusts, feel herself writhe and claw and pound him … Her throat tightened and an insistent thudding began between her legs. _Stop that right now. You know that you're supposed to be careful about your lovers, you're not supposed to pant over every mysterious stranger who makes you wet_ …  
  
"I do not need to use a last name." he said, watching her with a faint smile as though reading her thoughts. He touched one of the chalcedony brooches that fastened the shoulders of her gown and added, "When a person sees the emblem of the royal house that is carved here, do they need to know your last name? Names are meaningless; only essence is important."  
  
The statement did not seem to require a reply. She turned and watched. the dancers, self-consciously aware that he was studying her. After a while she folded her hands and said lightly, "So, what shall we talk about?"  
  
"I do not think that either of us is interested in conversation at the moment." He paused. "Am I wrong?" He smiled, and she noticed for the first time how red his lips were, and how sharp his teeth.  
  
_An animal's mouth,_ she thought. _Dancing time is over, yeah, it's time for skin to skin. And why not? Just this once, go with the urge, not bother to wait hours for a security check. Pandissa has an excellent surveillance system; that'll make sure that he won't get away with trying anything funny ... oh, stop thinking and start moving!_  
  
"1 have a room upstairs," she said.

.

  
She pressed her palm to the sensorplate lock outside the door to her suite. The rooms were huge, high-ceilinged, glassteel-roofed, and well furnished. A lightsphere on a night-table sensed their presence as they entered the bedroom, tossing pinpoints of light onto the low, tapestry-canopied bed. Standing in front of the night-table, she tapped "lock" instructions into the control panel for the outer door and then slipped off her shoes.  
  
Coctris came up behind her, circling her shoulders with his arms. She could feel the lump of his erection through her gown and her pulse doubled. Slowly, he slid his hands down her bare arms, just barely brushing her skin; then he unhooked the clasp of her filigree belt, pulled it away from her waist and set it on the table. He took down her hair, combing out the braids with his fingers, and delicately removed her earrings. Only then did he allow her to turn and face him.  
  
His face seemed subdued. She noticed his eyes: they were almost metallic; as he bent his head to kiss her they flashed, like drops of quicksilver, like ovals of mica. His mouth touched hers tentatively; his lips were cool and dry.  
  
She was, by then, ready to explode. The hunger between her legs was a knifelike stabbing. She felt like a beast, wild with starvation; she wanted to be filled. Moving her hands up his back, she rubbed against him; he was huge, and the size of him excited her even more. She dug her nails into the unyielding muscles of his back and parted his lips with her tongue. His mouth was dry, but she hardly noticed for his hands had moved to the small of her back, pressing her against him. He made a guttural noise deep in his throat and returned the kiss, opening his mouth wide as if to consume her.  
  
After a while he pulled back, held her face in his hands. "I have waited a long time," he said, and then moved his hands to her shoulders, unpinning the brooches. Her gown whispered to the floor. "So beautiful," he said, tracing his finger from the base of her throat down between her breasts to her navel, fanning his hand over her mans, slipping a thumb into her hot slickness. A spasm twisted upwards through her belly; she closed her eyes and forced herself to stand still as he unhurriedly caressed her breast , cupping it in his hand, rubbing his wet thumb across her nipple and it was good, so good, but finally she couldn't stand still anymore. She pulled the jumpsuit down off his shoulders to his waist, then knelt and peeled it down over his hips. Coctris kicked off his boots and stepped out of his clothes and she pulled him towards her, caressing him with her mouth and hands.  
  
His breathing became harsh; suddenly he pulled her to her feet and they climbed onto the bed where he stroked her, kissed her until her muscles began to quiver and she urged _Now Now_ and he started to enter her, gently, but she could not wait and she lunged at him, taking his entire length and gasping. That seemed to break through some barrier; he abandoned all restraint and tenderness and became a demon, thrusting deeply and mercilessly and she screamed and snarled because he was killing her but Death was glorious and as she started to climax he wrapped her hair around his hand and tilted her head back and pressed his mouth to her throat…  
  
… and far away, above, alone, the one whose mind had been controlling the cyborg's body let go, allowing the programming to take over. Watching her fierce shining face through Coctris' eyes, he clenched his gloved hands in a convulsion of envy. Re-establishing the telepathic link, he said aloud to the empty room, "Only an experiment," then pressed his hands against the computer console. There was a faint shriek as the metal began to buckle, and the sounds echoed in the hollow places.

FIN

  


**Author's Note:**

> The story was written in 1980. Baby's First Erotica, it became Baby's First Drawerfic. 
> 
> You are free to imagine that the woman in the story is someone from canon, or an original character (hence the "Open to Interpretation" tag).


End file.
